


Of Silver and Spindle

by BelladonnaLee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Family Dinners, Jealousy, Obsession, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Sibling Incest, Sister/Sister Incest, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaLee/pseuds/BelladonnaLee
Summary: There is only ever one dance partner Narcissa desires—her cruel, gentle Andromeda who does not need to be saved and who could never be hers.
Relationships: Narcissa Black Malfoy/Andromeda Black Tonks
Kudos: 5
Collections: My Bloody Valentine 2021





	Of Silver and Spindle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

In the dining-room of Cygnus and Druella Black, the occasional clinking of tableware disturbed the oppressive silence that hung over the table like a dark cloud. Narcissa stole a glance at her father, who ate slowly as if what he was chewing was not food but his own brooding. Her mother, on the other hand, barely touched her food. Her sister Andromeda, whose composure never faltered once throughout the evening, seemed to be the only one enjoying the meal.

Looking down at her own plate, Narcissa cut up her slice of beef Wellington, her knife meeting little resistance against the puff pastry and the tender meat. She ate a mouthful and found comfort in its familiar flavours and its familiar, layered texture. Beef Wellington was their house-elf's speciality, a special dish for special occasions. Nevertheless, not all special occasions were meant to be celebrated.

As Narcissa lowered her fork, the fork caught the chandelier light and glinted, a glint not unlike the glint of her silver signet-ring. All three daughters of the House of Black had one. Bellatrix stopped wearing hers when she got married; Andromeda, on the other hand, stopped wearing hers for an entirely different reason. As Narcissa stared at Andromeda's ringless fingers, she felt betrayed.

Once upon a time, Andromeda had said to her, "Let's run away together, Cissy." Young that Narcissa was, she had believed her older sister's words. In the end, however, Andromeda did not take her along when she left home.

Narcissa tightened her grip on her knife and fork. An outsider—and a Muggle-born wizard at that—had stolen Andromeda away, and there was nothing Narcissa could do about it. Andromeda had made up her mind, and nothing, not even persecution and condemnation by her own family, would sway her resolve.

Once Narcissa had eaten her fill, she put down her cutlery, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and waited like the dutiful daughter that she was. When everyone else was done, Lenny the house-elf hobbled in, cleared the table with a snap of the finger, and brought coffee and dessert for everyone. Tonight's dessert was Battenberg cake: Andromeda's favourite. Lenny had always been fond of Andromeda, who was always kind to her.

"Lenny, get out," Father whispered. Once Lenny had left the dining-room post-haste, Father turned to Andromeda and contemplated her with narrowed eyes. "Break it off with the Mudblood, Andromeda. Do you know what they say about you in our circle?"

What followed was the same argument Narcissa had heard countless times. Listening with half an ear, she cut her slice of cake with the cake fork and destroyed the perfectly symmetrical chequered pattern of the cake. She ate a forkful. Marzipan, apricot jam and sponge cake blended together in her mouth. Although it was too sweet for her adult self, it was the taste of her childhood, hers and Andromeda's and Bellatrix's.

Once upon a time, the three of them used to play together, take lessons together, practise dancing together. Even after the relationship between Andromeda and Bellatrix had gone sour, Andromeda and Narcissa would dance together, just the two of them. No matter how many dance partners Narcissa had encountered at parties and balls and social gatherings, Andromeda was the only dance partner for her, the only dance partner she ever desired.

(In the dead of night she would put on Andromeda's dress robe, Andromeda's earrings and Andromeda's favourite perfume, and she would dance in front of the mirror, imagining Andromeda in her arms, imagining herself in Andromeda's arms. Two women dancing together for the rest of eternity—or a slightly mad woman dancing with her shadow in the dark.)

"Andromeda, I will not stand for this kind of talk in my house," Mother said.

Jolted out of her musing, Narcissa looked up from her mangled slice of cake. Andromeda was a study in cool composure as she stirred sugar into her cup of coffee. Mother, looking none too pleased, cast a sidelong glance at Father, whose dark scowl could not disguise his agitation or his discomfort.

What were they talking about? Narcissa cast her mind back to snatches of the conversation she had heard. Something about picking a suitor from Father's pure-blood friends at his club? Something about how awkward it would be if the suitor happened to be one of Father's _special friends_? It was hardly a secret that Father preferred the company of pure-blood young men over his own household of witches, though no one spoke of it aloud till now.

When Andromeda had the mind to hurt, she could be as sharp-tongued as Bellatrix, though she disliked the comparison. It was fortunate that Mother had the foresight not to invite Bellatrix over for dinner. Bellatrix was quick with her words and her wand; Andromeda was hardly helpless either.

"That man is not for you, Andromeda," Mother began, as if deeming Father could contribute no more to the discussion. "He cannot possibly make you happy. How much does he earn each year?" Thus began Mother's speech imploring her wayward daughter to see reason.

It would not work on Andromeda, Narcissa knew. In a way, she commended her parents for not resorting to potions or dark curses to change Andromeda's mind. Other pure-blood families would not be so lenient towards a rebellious offspring. In spite of being sorted into Slytherin, their parents had a peculiar sense of propriety when it came to people they regarded as their own kind, and for now at least Andromeda was their own kind.

Letting her mind wander, Narcissa sipped her black coffee and roamed her eyes over her older sister. Andromeda wore very little make-up, for she did not need it. Her brown hair was cropped short in a pixie cut; a small silver loop earring dangled and glinted on her left ear. She was beautiful, her brilliant Andromeda who did not need to be saved.

Narcissa wanted to toy with Andromeda's earring like she used to when they were younger. She wanted to wrap her arms around Andromeda and nuzzled her neck. She wanted to leave her lipstick marks on Andromeda's throat for _that man_ to see. She wanted to—

When Andromeda met her gaze and flashed her a quick smile, Narcissa felt a pang in her chest. Yes, she was still the same Andromeda she had known and loved. Nevertheless, with every breath and every heartbeat Andromeda was slipping ever farther out of reach, and Narcissa found herself grasping nothing but air.

"—saying this for your own good."

Andromeda raised her fine eyebrows. "It's not for my own good, Mother, but yours." Her voice was quiet and low, but there was a steely edge in her tone. "Yours and Father's."

Mother's expression darkened, and when she spoke, she sounded very much like Bellatrix in her flash of temper. "You will regret it one day, Andromeda, and you will know I was right. I warned you, and you wouldn't listen."

"I'll take responsibility for my own choices." With an air of finality Andromeda pushed her chair back and stood up. "Good night, Mother. I'd better be going. Father, I apologise for my impertinence. Do spend more time with Mother. Cissy, take care of yourself." 

Unable to find the words within herself in front of their disapproving parents, Narcissa kept her silence and merely nodded. As though she had expected as much, Andromeda smiled a small, wistful smile and left the dining-room without another word. Voices drifted in from the corridor; it seemed Andromeda was thanking their house-elf Lenny for the meal.

"Lenny!" Father barked. "Clear away the table at once!"

"Y-yes, Master!"

Lenny hastened into the room and started clearing away everything on the table: dirty dishes and stained silver, crumpled napkins and empty cups, crumbs and leftovers. The table did not resemble the aftermath of a storm so much as the remnant of something that never was and never would be.

Ever so discreet, Narcissa slipped away from the dining-room and into the dimly lit corridor, but Andromeda was nowhere to be found. Her heart pounding in her chest, she went to the front door without a moment of delay and sneaked out of the house. Something in the pocket of her robe bounced against her thigh, and she paid it little mind.

Night had fallen, and the moon glowed like a pale blade in the sky. The cool autumn air carried the scent of dead leaves; a moth fluttered and danced in the bright glare of the streetlamp, entranced. Andromeda was standing on the pavement outside the house, seemingly lost in thought. When she saw Narcissa, her face broke into a smile that stirred up a feeling of nostalgia and a dull ache in Narcissa.

"Are you here to see me off?" Andromeda asked.

"In a way," Narcissa said vaguely, her gaze falling upon the woman she could confide in and depend on and hold in her arms—no more. "What are you going to do from now on?"

"Nothing much. I'll live the way I want to and be with the man I love."

Andromeda's words pricked Narcissa's psyche like a spindle, drawing blood that left a red stain in the fibres of her heart. A cold breeze blew past and billowed the hem of Narcissa's robe, chilling her to the marrow of her bone. Feeling the touch of an icy, invisible blade between her breasts, she shivered and hugged herself.

"You chose a Mud—" Narcissa caught herself as soon as she saw the hard glint in Andromeda's eyes. "You chose an outsider over your family." _Over me._ She did not say it; it would not be appropriate.

"Blood isn't everything. You need look no further than our dear sister Bellatrix." There was a withering note in Andromeda's voice. "She will happily murder her own family in a heartbeat if she believes it would please the man she idolises. You'd better stay away from her."

"I'll try."

Her expression softened, Andromeda let out a breath and contemplated Narcissa for a moment or two. "Go out and see the world, Cissy. You don't have to play the obedient daughter and do everything our parents say. Find someone you love who loves you." A beat. "It doesn't have to be a wizard. Or a man."

Ah, her Andromeda was always as cruel as she was kind, Narcissa thought as she uncrossed her arms and let them drop to her side. Her hand brushed against something in her pocket, something hard and cool and sharpened to a razor edge, a presence that gave her comfort and courage like an amulet.

"I know," Narcissa heard herself say. "But I'm a coward."

Taken aback, Andromeda stared at Narcissa for several heartbeats before stepping forward and enveloping Narcissa in a gentle embrace. "It's all right," she whispered, a flicker of emotion in her voice. "One step at a time is good enough. I'm here for you."

A faint scent of jasmine teased Narcissa's senses, and without resistance she rested her head on Andromeda's shoulder and wrapped her arm around Andromeda. Slipping her other hand into her pocket, she closed her fingers around something steely and cold as the moon. Why did she take it with her, she wondered. She wasn't planning on using it—or was she?

"I know," Narcissa said to no one in particular.

It was as if she had exhausted her repertoire of words, and those were the only words left behind in her heart. Perhaps she was simply tired, too tired. With as much tenderness as she could muster she held Andromeda by her nape and pulled her own hand out of her pocket. Her robe fluttered in the wind like a veil, and for one breath-taking heartbeat that would be their eternity, they were dancing in the lamplight, their shadows melting and becoming one on the pavement—together at long last.

* * * * * * *

_Finis._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Loosely inspired by Buck-Tick's "Dress". Thank you for reading.


End file.
